July 31, 2009

As Ickles Homes enters twilight, residents are left in shadows

The CHA's Ickes Homes, on Chicago's Near South Side, will be demolished starting Monday, paving the way for mixed-income development.

By December, the mostly abandoned mid-rises, which line South State Street from Cermak Road to 25th Street and became a haven for the homeless and drugs dealers, will be gone.

Yet the people remaining -- 79 households by the CHA's last count, many of whom are lifelong residents -- are not sure where they will end up. They stay because they have few or no options.

"It's like they drained a fish tank and left a couple of fish here, wading around," said Aaron Boyd, 36, a lifelong resident. "They still have to figure out what they are going to do with people who are left."

Residents rarely left "the land," as they refer to Ickes. There was no need to.

It was self-contained with everything you wanted within the 11 buildings. Several apartments operated as stores. There was the bootleg DVD and CD store: "the Blockbuster of the projects," one tenant called it. If you wanted a home-cooked meal, a white T-shirt, or a fabricated check stub (often used to provide proof of employment to buy a car), it could all be had without leaving the grounds.

In the last six months, residents say, things have changed.

Drugs still exist, but are mostly behind closed doors, a stark contrast from the open-air drug market that used to take over the first floor.

Now the entrances look like college dorm lobbies. A security guard stationed behind a makeshift plywood desk asks visitors to show ID and sign in. Homeless people no longer squat in the hallways at night.

There are signs of a former way of life. An elevator door sticks, and the car stops on only some floors. Some stairwells smell of urine. But the noxious mix of ammonia and vomit is gone. Empty apartments are boarded up and the wood is painted white to blend in with the rest of the hallway.

Residents wonder why the changesweren't implemented earlier. Had they been, Ickes might not have become so rundown and unsafe, they say.

"They could have [done] this from day one," Boyd said. Built in 1955, Ickes housed nearly 1,000 families at its peak. The CHA closed five of the buildings in 2007. Six were occupied until late last year, when high vacancies, security concerns and the dilapidated conditions required consolidation into three buildings, according to the CHA. Residents were given a choice of moving into a remaining Ickes building, relocating to another CHA-rehabbed property or using a Section 8 voucher to rent housing in the private market. Before Ickes is razed, residents can choose from the latter two options, and the CHA is working to ensure people have somewhere to go, said agency spokesman Matthew Aguilar.

"The CHA strives to give residents as much notice as possible in order to make informed choices on their housing preferences," he said, but acknowledged there is "not a firm timeline" for when the agency will require residents to relocate.

That leaves residents in limbo.

"Older people are staying out of pride," Boyd said. "This is the last. Most of them can't cope with society outside."

Those who remain say their former neighbors remind them how good they have it, living in a community with reduced rent, free gas and electricity. The housing complex is centrally located, making it tempting for people to stay.

Ickes is near downtown, close to the lake and blocks away from McCormick Place and U.S. Cellular Field. The housing development also is accessible to public transportation and the Kennedy and Ryan Expressways -- all of which make it fertile ground for redevelopment. The signs of gentrification are obvious.

The Opera Lofts, just behind Ickes on South Dearborn Street, advertise the area as "on the southern edge of the South Loop at the gateway to historic Bronzeville." Developers of the lofts, which feature large balconies and Egyptian marble countertops, also note the proximity to the proposed multibillion-dollar 2016 Olympic Village that would serve as a permanent 37-acre residential community after the games, if Chicago is awarded the bid Oct. 2.

"We know white folks want this property," said Sabrina Townsend, 56, who is black and has lived at Ickes since the early 1990s. "Who doesn't want to live on 22nd and State? This is a prime location. I'm trying to wait them out."

The CHA says it is evaluating all of its options for redevelopment. Under Chicago's $1.6 billion Plan for Transformation, one goal is dividing new developments into a third each of market-rate, affordable and public housing. Working groups, which will decide the future use of Ickes, will include residents, CHA staff, community stakeholders and the City of Chicago.

"While I am supportive of the demolition which will help safety and security throughout the neighborhood, I am most excited about the work ahead," Ald. Pat Dowell said in a statement. "CHA has assured me that, concurrent with the demolition, we will convene a working group to arrive at a unified vision, and to map future development for the site -- with a plan that meets the needs of this growing and vibrant community."

Meanwhile, Ickes residents talk about how hollow the complex the complex has become. Blue and yellow playground equipment, designed to be cheery and inviting, has a layer of thick grime. Basketball courts go largely unused. It barely resembles a place that was once full of life so many years ago, residents say.

Clara Stoner, 38, a lifelong resident, remembers an Ickes that had gardens, skating parties, dance classes, Girl Scouts and Halloween haunted houses. She shares a three-bedroom, one-bathroom apartment with her three teenage daughters. She started looking for a new place to live about three years ago, in anticipation of the demolition.

She thought she had found one. Most of last year, Stoner and her girls lived out of moving boxes in their Ickes apartment, while they waited to move into a larger place at Hilliard Apartments. But it never came through.

"It's hard for me to get my kids' hopes up and then let them down," Stoner said. "I don't want to spend another Christmas here."

Yet Stoner, a single mother and cafeteria lunchroom attendant, has put her apartment search on hold, because Ickes is convenient. She said management makes repairsquickly and adjusted her rent when she was out of work.

Any move Stoner makes, she hopes will be temporary. "I hope they rebuild what once was," she said.

Comments

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Great article. Its really a sad story, and the blame rests squarely on the shoulders of the CHA. Its obvious if they had maintained the stringent admission standards which were in place when the buildings originally were erected (and done a better job of upkeep rather than letting the structures fall into disarray), most of today's horror stories would have largely been avoided IMO.

These buildings were built to supply much needed housing in the 50's, but were not expected to last more than 50 years. Through many, many years of poor maintenance, tenant abuse and harboring gangs and drug dealers, this facility can no longer house anyone. It had gotten so bad that this development has become a burden on the entire neighborhood. Since closing many of the buildings last year, I have watched the area flourish. The drug dealers and addicts have disappeared and I can drive south on State with my windows open again.

Trying to place all of the blame on the CHA is absolutely ridiculous. The culture of drugs and gangs has transformed this place into a hell hole. Anyone able to leave should feel very fortunate for themselves and for their children.

How about the policymakers who had the buildings erected in the first place? Knowing the highrise design would be problematic and going ahead with the plans anyway proves that the city had a large hand in what transpired. Certainly the CHA did not hold up its end of the bargain, but that's because it did have an adequate plan formed prior to the grand opening of these projects. CHA had to deal with issues as they arose, and at first they did so with the best of intentions.

As for the above 'culture of poverty' argument, drugs and gangs go where they operate without the annoyance of police presence.